


Lost Innocence

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am innocent. I did not kill my brother. I did not kill my best friend. I did not leave my godson without a guardian. That cheating, lying, disgusting rat killed them. He sold them to Voldemort. And now here I am, sitting in this dank and gross cell, contemplating death. Please take me…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Innocence

_I am innocent. I did not kill my brother. I did not kill my best friend. I did not leave my godson without a guardian. That cheating, lying, disgusting rat killed them. He sold them to Voldemort. And now here I am, sitting in this dank and gross cell, contemplating death. Please take me…_ ****

****

_I was crouched low on the ground, my knees bent, my head in my arms, and my butt just almost touching the cold, concrete ground.  I continued to contemplate what had transacted just moments ago, not allowing myself to truly believe it._

 

It was nine o’clock at night when I got the message.  I was lying on my back on the grass outside my hidden cabin, staring at the night sky with the peace of silence around me when James’ owl dropped beside me looking frantic.  There was no note, and I instantly knew that something was wrong.  I took my flying motorbike to Godric’s Hollow immediately, gasping as I saw the blown-away roof and the blasted door.  There was no way they had survived an attack from him.  No one was known to have done so.  Or so I thought.

 

Hagrid, that man of a half-giant, came staggering out of the wreckage holding a bundle in his arms, looking thoroughly disheartened.  He saw me standing there, swaying slightly, and hurried over to steady me.  ‘They’re gone, Sirius,’ he muttered, giving me an apologetic glance, ‘Ony ‘arry survived.  Miracle, if you was ter ask me.’

 

‘Harry?’  I turned at the sound of his butchered name and stared into the bundle.  Sure enough, wrapped inside his baby blue blanket was one-year-old Harry, eyes closed and cheeks wet with tears.  I put a hand forward and brushed back his hair, revealing a swollen and painful-looking lightening bolt shaped scar.  I heaved a dry sob as my shoulders slumped and Hagrid patted me in a somewhat awkward, yet comforting way on the back.

 

‘There, there, Sirius.  It’s alright then.  At least ‘arry’s alive.’

 

‘They can’t be gone!’ I screamed, stumbling back.  Hagrid gave me a wild stare, and I’m sure I must’ve looked like a madman.  I was going to find Peter.  I was going to find him and kill him.  I was positive he had sold them down the drain to Voldemort.  No one else except Dumbledore knew, and he was the last person I expected to even go within spitting distance of the Dark Lord.

 

‘Now, Sirius, don’t be doin’ nothin’ rash,’ Hagrid tried to warn, but I was already well on my way past rash and raging toward insane.

 

‘Take my bike.  I don’t need it.’  Without another word, I disapparated into thin air and reappeared in a darkened alley.  I ran around London, apparating here and there, until dawn came and then morn and finally afternoon.  I still couldn’t find him.

 

Around four thirty in the afternoon, as the sun was slowly dying, I was meandering around a public street packed with Muggles left and right.  I kept my gaze concentrated on my feet as my hair fell around my face and I had my wand out, gripped tightly in my hand, uncaring of what anyone saw or thought.  I wasn’t going to give up, though.  No matter how tired or hungry I was, I was going to persevere and find that lying murderer.  I was going to do him justice.  And all too soon, it felt like, I found him.

 

I heard his cackle first, followed by the sight of heads turning, before I actually came upon him.  He was standing menacingly in front of me, a few yards away, looking smug as ever.  ‘Come to kill me, Padfoot?’  I was speechless.  Who was this monster?  This was not the Peter Pettigrew I knew.  Then again, the Peter Pettigrew I knew wouldn’t take down his best friends.  ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

 

‘You killed them!’  I sent a vicious spell Peter’s way and he skillfully deflected it.  Everyone scream.  It was instant panic, but no one seemed to be able to move properly and get away.

 

‘I killed them and I’d do it again.  But you’re next first,’ he hissed, faking a smile and shooting a spell at me.  I threw up my shield charm, and sent Peter sprawling backward as I flourished my wand at him.

 

‘He was my brother!  James was the closet thing I ever had to family!  And you murdered him!’

 

‘And poor Evans too.  Pity; she was so pretty.’

 

‘DON’T TAKE ABOUT LILY!’ I roared, pinning him down against his will, holding my wand directed at him as I stalked toward him.

 

‘What?  Can’t take the heat?  What was the awful Mudblood to you?  A sister?  Ha!’  Peter cackled again and I made to send the final spell, but he beat me to it.  He sent such force and wickedness through the curse that it blasted me backward and killed many around me.  I sat up and watched, in horror, as he cut off his finger, transfigured into a rat, and scampered down a drain.  Aurors were appearing left and right as I scrambled up and made to follow him.

 

‘NO!’ I screamed as they caught me and I fell back to my knees, sobs wrenching through me.  I was disarmed, and held down by physical force and magical alike.  I continued to scream, my ears ringing horribly.  I heard something about erasing memories and thirteen Muggles dead.  I heard the worst,

 

‘Sirius Black, a madman.’

 

‘Sirius Black, a mass-murderer.’

 

‘Sirius Black, sentenced to Azkaban for life.  No trial awaits.’  This last statement sent me into hysterical bouts of laughter and I’m sure their comments of insane and madman would carry true as they snapped my picture.  I didn’t care.  Someday, somehow, I was getting out and I was going to kill Peter Pettigrew.

 

_But here I was, thirteen years later, and I was still rocking back and forth in my cell in Azkaban, thin, sick, gaunt, and dying.  Only the single thought kept me alive._

_I am innocent. I did not kill my brother. I did not kill my best friend. I did not leave my godson without a guardian. That cheating, lying, disgusting rat killed them. He sold them to Voldemort._

_I continued to chant this to myself, willing myself to believe it.  I had to, lest I perish forever.  But the Dementors would be back soon enough, although they patrolled my cell constantly and there were always clusters of them lurking around outside the bars.  It was torture._

_And now here I am, sitting in this dank and gross cell, contemplating death. Please take me…_


End file.
